


Forged Heart

by peachycarat



Category: Disney - All Media Types, How to Steal a Million (1966), Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disney, F/M, How To Steal A Million (1966 - AU), References of other Disney Characters, TTS, tangled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachycarat/pseuds/peachycarat
Summary: Rapunzel is an enigmatic art forger who wants more than the life of crime her money-coveting mother has forced her into. Enter Flynn Rider, charismatic cat burglar and the first friend she's made in years. When one of her duplicates accidentally winds up in one of the world's most prestigious museums, she's forced to enlist his help to steal it back. Things take a turn for the complicated when they begin to fall for each other, the consequences of which could be worse than a prison sentence if her mother were to find out.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22





	1. Exhibition of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am not new to fanfiction, but this is my first ever Tangled fanfic! I've been a huge fan of Tangled since it came out 10 years ago and I'm pretty sure I'm pretty sure I've watched it more times than I count, but that's not important.
> 
> Anyway, this fanfic is very loosely based off one of my favorite movies - How To Steal A Million with Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole! I came up with the idea over a year ago as it was only supposed to be a fun Tumblr AU post, but I formed it into a fanfic instead.
> 
> Also, I thank my younger sister very much for proofreading this story for me as I go!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Oh, dear, sir. You're absolutely charming."

Rapunzel heard the high and chilling laugh of her mother from up within the hidden and confined space of her room. She fiddled with her hands, her paints sitting dry and unused beside her, as she inspected the painting in front of her for any mistakes. 

Because even the smallest mistake would set her mother off. 

"Please, you're making me blush!" Another laugh. "I'll be right back, darling!"

Rapunzel heard the clicking of her mother's heels and hurriedly stood up, cleared her space, and pushed her things to the side before her mother came in. She moved to push a piece of hair behind her ear, but then she remembered it was tied back in a ponytail, each strand neatly in place.

Her mother always made sure of that.

The door opened and in walked her mother, standing tall and elegant in a red pencil skirt dress, black high heels, and a fur shawl around her arms. Her wavy black hair fell over her shoulders a little, clean and fresh for the day. While she admired her mother's beauty, all of that disappeared instantly when her mother's eyes were cold and intimidating, never radiating the warmth they could have.

"Mother."

" _Rapunzel."_

"I suppose you and your date are back early?"

A thin smile crossed her mother's lips. "We're right on time, dear." 

She stepped further into the room and glanced at the painting on the easel, causing Rapunzel to freeze in place. "I hope you finished the painting, my flower. You know what happens when you don't finish a painting."

She'd be locked up in this very room and made to do the entire piece all over again in 24 hours. She was only allowed three bathroom breaks and one meal.

"Of course, Mother. I wouldn't want to disappoint you." Rapunzel swallowed as she stepped to the side to let her mother review the painting.

"Then I don't know why it takes you so long."

She stared long and hard at it while Rapunzel stood rigid, itching to move and nervous that her mother would hate it and that she'd be upset she left a client waiting longer and that she'd be forced to—

She felt arms wrap around her small shoulders and was pulled into her mother's warm chest. "Oh, my flower, it looks beautiful," the older woman hummed happily. 

She pulled away and lifted Rapunzel's chin to turn her head to the painting. "You did a marvelous job."

Relief seeped throughout her entire body as a small smile etched onto her face. "Thank you, Mother."

"Now, now, I mustn't keep my client waiting, darling." Her mother placed a kiss on her forehead and spent the next few minutes carefully wrapping the painting up. When she finished, she lifted the painting and sauntered to the door. "We must celebrate tonight, my dear. How about hazelnut soup, your favorite?"

"That... That would be wonderful, Mother," Rapunzel answered in a small voice.

"I knew you'd love that!" her mother chirped before finally making her way out of the room.

She waited until she heard that shrill fake laugh again, indicating that her mother was back downstairs, to dump herself in her chair. She was tired, hungry, and needed a shower.

Thankfully, her next painting wasn't to be done for another two days, so she cleaned her things up and exited the room, locking the door behind her with her key, and headed to the bathroom to take a hot shower. 

She let her hair down and glanced in the mirror at the sink to see her roots were growing back again, which meant the golden blonde in her hair was fading and it was time for another dye job. 

Her mother hated any traces of her natural hair to be exposed, so any time her roots grew back, her mother would dye them the color blonde. It was strange.

All Rapunzel could remember was blonde hair her whole life, but she was well aware her hair was far from being genetically blonde.

It was dark brown.

And she had never seen it a day in her life.

Not even in old pictures.

The young woman pursed her lips and removed her clothes from her body, dumping them into the clothes bin before stepping in the hot shower.

.....

A spoon.

A basket of bread.

A bowl of hazelnut soup. 

Rapunzel was careful to tie her hair back up properly where her roots wouldn't show. If her mother were to discover them now, neither of them would be going to bed tonight.

"Rapunzel, dear, what have I said about playing around with your dinner?" her mother scolded. "Hazelnut soup is your favorite. I did not make it for you to waste it."

"Sorry, Mother. I'm just deep in thought." Rapunzel laughed sheepishly. To satisfy her mother, she scooped two big spoonfuls of soup into her mouth and swallowed. "I'm just... a little tired, you know."

"Well, dear, hurry up and be on your way to bed once you're finished. We don't want you so tired as to not be able to start your next painting tomorrow." Her mother tore off a piece of bread and put it into her mouth.

Rapunzel clasped her hands together tightly. She did her best to say her next words without stuttering. "Mother, I thought I didn't have to start my next painting for another t-two days?"

Her mother looked up, her lips forming a thin line and her face shifting into that dark, cold expression Rapunzel feared.

The thin line turned into a tight smile in the matter of seconds. "My flower, you know how important it is that you recreate the _La barque à Giverny_ for my next client. It'd be better if we get a head start, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Mother..." 

"Oh, Rapunzel." Her mother stood up and walked around to the other side of the table to take a seat in the chair next to her daughter. She began to pat her head, smoothing down a loose strand of hair. "I love you very much, dear."

Her mother's touch was chilling, but she managed to force out a quiet, "I love you more."

"I love you most." Her mother placed a kiss on her forehead and stroked her cheek. "Now hurry up and go to bed."

Rapunzel smiled earnestly. "Yes, Mother."

.....

"Honestly, I think it looks amazing on that wall. Don't you?"

Flynn leaned back in his seat and admired the painting with a lazy grin. "You know, I don’t even like art, but this? This I could look at all day."

"We're supposed to be selling it, Rider," the gruff voice of one of the Stabbington Brothers, Sideburns, answered. "Take it off that damn wall."

"Well, you guys must be no fun at parties," Flynn muttered as he stood up from the couch. He grabbed the bottle of wine off the coffee table and went into the kitchen to pour some of it into the empty glass sitting on the counter. "I think I'll let it hang until our buyer arrives later."

"Rider—" Sideburns started but was cut off by his brother.

"Leave it alone and let him do what he wants," Patchy snapped. "As long as it's given to our employer and we get the money."

Flynn took a sip from his drink before setting it back down and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "Who is it tonight? That old man from Weaseltown?"

"Weselton," Sideburns corrected.

"Whatever," Flynn said dismissively. "The old man should hurry it up. I have to hit the hay for my next job tomorrow night."

"Just you?" Patchy growled as he spun his pocket knife in his hand.

"She was a pretty lady." Flynn shrugged, remembering the blonde woman with beautiful skin and round hips who had somehow got him into bed with her after requesting he steal a painting from her ex - a forged rendition of the _Bal du moulin de la Galette._ "She promised ten grand for it."

"It seems these forged paintings have been popular lately, huh?" Sideburns grumbled as he took a swig of whiskey.

"Why steal the painting from someone else when you could just find the forger yourself?" Flynn asked, amused.

"Rumor has it there's a beautiful lady in charge of the forged paintings. Take her on a date, spend the night with her, and she'll see what she can do." Patchy laughed deeply.

"Sounds farfetched," Flynn said.

"It's been a rumor going on for years, but it seems reliable since there's about five versions of the _Bal du moulin de la Galette,_ " Patchy continued. "It's said the lady has a young daughter as well. Only a few people have seen her - she doesn't come out much."

"From the sound of that, this woman sounds _pretty_ crazy to me, but I've been on the receiving end of crazy women before. Many times, so..." Flynn shrugged.

"You're just an asshole, Rider," Sideburns scoffed.

"Fair enough."

Soon after his reply, the doorbell rang, and Flynn whistled. "Finally."

"Get the door, Patchy. Rider doesn't know how to greet clients without pissing them off," Sideburns said, casting a glare at the younger man.

Flynn, in the middle of rolling his sleeves back down, said, "I guess my good looks bring out the devil in me sometimes."

"Shut up, Rider."

Patchy opened the door, and a short man with gray hair and two guards dressed in black suits standing on either side of him stepped inside their moderately-sized apartment.

"Mr. Weselton," Patchy greeted. "I am pleased that you could make it. Your painting is right over here."

The old man hummed as he took a look at the painting on the wall. "Is this the original?"

"The very original, sir," Sideburns assured.

The original version had been replaced with the forged copy that was ultimately recognized as the best version of the painting and had been just as popular as the real thing. To Flynn, the steal had been quite easy - it was hanging on a wall in a museum, far from being secured as the other objects were. As they had stolen the forged version from the man who had painted it years ago, replacing it was easy.

Now give them about a month to realize it was gone, and by then Weselton would be well out of the country.

A slow grin crossed Weselton's face. "Marvelous."

"Go ahead and package it, Patchy," Sideburns told his brother, gesturing toward the painting. He trailed after Patchy just to make sure everything was done perfectly. 

While this was in process, Flynn decided to keep his mouth shut. He didn't have anything nice to say, so he just wouldn't say anything at all.

Unless asked.

"Mr. Rider."

Like now.

"Long time no see, Al. It's been a minute since the last time I saw you," Flynn drawled with a tad bit of a smirk on his face.

Mr. Weselton ignored him in favor of saying, "It's said you did the job."

"We all did, but seeing as I'm better and lighter on my feet than _those_ big boys," Flynn said, referencing the Stabbingtons, "I did the grunt of it."

Mr. Weselton nodded. "I see. It must be hard work."

Flynn had to resist rolling his eyes. He didn't do small talk unless necessary and _this_ was extremely unnecessary. "Yes, it is, but it comes easy, especially when you're stealing for the rich. They need and want everything, you know? Doesn't matter who they're hurting."

"Well, I like to think of it as taking from those who don't use or have a need for something," Mr. Weselton countered pointedly.

"And I see it as people who would rather spend millions on some trivial painting just to hang it up on their walls, unmoving, rather than using that same money to help the poor. Rich people...They're quite selfish. But what do I know? I'm just a thief trying to survive." Flynn chuckled before taking a sip of his wine. "Also, your hair is kinda lopsided."

Mr. Weselton quickly fixed his crooked wig and hissed, "Well, I'll be, Mr. Rider! This is how you speak to _me_ , your client?"

"What? We were just having a conversation. Exchanging opinions," Flynn said innocently. 

Just as he spoke, the Stabbington brothers came out with the painting, perfectly wrapped and boxed.

The old man scowled as his bodyguards took the painting from the brothers. "You Stabbingtons should learn to control that... _peasant_ of yours," he spat as he threw open the door. "Good _day_."

His bodyguards followed behind him, the door slamming shut.

"Rider!" Sideburns yelled, grasping Flynn by the collar of his shirt. "What did you say?!"

"How about we not get so rough?" Flynn suggested as he extracted the auburn-haired man's hands from his shirt. "Also, I didn't say a word. Rich people are just sensitive."

"Ryder, we just lost a potential client! There's no telling if he'll give us the money now!"

"He _will_ unless we rat ourselves and the other folks involved in this with us out. Now, I'll be on my way - there's a darling I promised to meet tonight and she doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Rider!" Sideburns bellowed.

"Good evening, boys!" Flynn grabbed his coat off the rack and waved before hastily slipping out the door.

They still had a stick up their ass after all these years.

.....

"Now, darling, are you sure you'll be alright?" her mother asked as she fixed her daughter's beret on top of her head.

Rapunzel straightened out her purple double-breasted coat and nodded resolutely. "I'll be fine, Mother. Like you said, stay in the museum and wait for you to get back in an hour."

"Remember to also get plenty of pictures. We need them," her mother reminded her in a low voice.

They needed them to keep doing what they did, no matter how much Rapunzel herself disapproved of it. 

"Yes, Mother."

"Great. As soon as you get home, you'll get started on that painting, won't you?"

"Of course."

"Good girl. Now I'm off to my lunch date! It won't take long," her mother promised as she climbed back into the taxi they'd arrived in. "Goodbye, darling."

"Goodbye, Mother." 

Her mother blew her a kiss as the taxi pulled off, and Rapunzel waved until the car was out of sight.

With that, she went into the museum, her camera safe within the purple purse hanging over her shoulder. Her notepad was also inside so she could write down the mediums used for the paintings.

She entered the museum, grateful to find that there wasn't a crowd. Since it was a weekday, there were only a few people present. It didn't take long for her to find the visual arts exhibition, and she smiled at the guard on duty. When he didn't return her smile, she swiftly continued walking. 

Thank goodness there was only one guard keeping watch. She wasn't exactly allowed to take pictures, but the camera she had was small and could be hidden easily.

She did this all the time.

It was a mastered art instilled into her by her mother.

Just like painting was. She actually used to paint for fun, but when her mother first discovered that she had a penchant for creating art and had an eye for copying what was in front of her, she began to force Rapunzel to forge existing paintings to sell. She'd been doing it for almost thirteen years now.

She'd be twenty-one next month.

Yet she wouldn't dare tell her mother she hated forging paintings. Not only was it illegal, but she'd hate for her mother to get in trouble if she was discovered.

Rapunzel sighed out loud, deciding to focus on the task at hand: taking pictures.

Discreetly, she snapped a few pictures of the lovely pieces around the area until she stopped in front of a specific painting. It was a rendering of a lake full of beautiful shining lanterns in the sky. A small boat was in the middle of it, and what looked like a tiny couple was sitting in the boat.

While it wasn't a painting she knew matched her mother's tastes, she thought it was beautiful and raised her camera to get a picture of it for herself. 

"You supposed to be doing that, Blondie?"

"Eek!"

Rapunzel almost dropped her camera, but she caught it before it slipped out of her hand. She shoved it into her purse and whipped around to face the man standing behind her. "It's rude to sneak up on people, sir. That wasn't very kind of you."

The man chuckled, and Rapunzel couldn't help but notice that he was very handsome. He had dark brown hair and was dressed clean and crisply in dark blue suit pants and a white dress shirt, a matching blue jacket draped over his arm. The top button of his shirt was undone.

"I get that a lot," he said airily.

"Well, if you get it a lot, I think you should learn from your past bad mannerisms," she shot back.

"I suppose you're right, Blondie."

" _Rapunzel._ "

Pause.

"Gesundheit."

"My _name_ is Rapunzel _._ "

"Well, you sure do have the long hair part down," he quipped, motioning for her hair that went past her hips.

Rapunzel rolled her eyes, but that didn't stop the tiny smile that tugged at her lips. "Are you always this funny?"

The man pursed his lips. "I don't know. You think so?"

Rapunzel stifled a laugh. "What even brings you here to my space?"

"Blondie, I didn't forget about the camera if that's what you think, but I'm just here to admire these beautiful paintings all done by dead people I don't care about."

"So you don't care about the paintings?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you here?"

"I came with some friends and wandered off. This painting is honestly the most interesting out of all of them. I'm not looking at boxes overlapping. This one looks like it might actually mean something."

"They all mean something," Rapunzel said.

"You're a painter, aren't you?" the man asked her, and Rapunzel shrugged in response.

"It's just a hobby." 

Maybe she'd do something more with her abilities if she wasn't forced to forge paintings. It took the fun out of everything.

"So you need pictures?"

"No! I mean - _yes._ For inspiration."

"You sound unsure, Blondie," the man pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"We-Well, I am _sure._ " She hoped she sounded more convincing than she thought she did. 

"I believe you, Blondie. No need to get upset." He moved to tuck his hands in his pockets, glancing at the painting and then back at her. "You took a picture of this yet?"

"No, but if you're going to—"

"I'm a lot of things, Blondie, but I'm not a snitch."

"Ah..." She was about to accuse him of that. "Well, then... I guess I should take a picture. My mother will be back soon..."

She gave him a grateful smile before turning to click a few pictures of the painting. When she was finished, she addressed him again. "Hey, thanks for- Eek!"

The man had grabbed her camera and chucked it into the vase sitting on a table nearby.

"What are you—?" Rapunzel started, a glare forming on her face, but then the handsome man pulled her snug against his chest. She blushed, about to protest, but then he spoke.

"Good evening, guard," he greeted in what Rapunzel was sure was a mocking tone.

Oh. _Oh._

"That girl," the guard said gruffly. "Did she have a camera?"

"What girl? Her?" the man gasped, releasing her from the warm, one-sided embrace that Rapunzel felt bad for enjoying. "Now why on earth would she have a camera in a museum full of such _beautiful_ paintings where you can observe the real thing with your own two eyes?"

"I'm sure she had a camera," the guard insisted.

"How awful are you to accuse my sweet girlfriend of having a camera? Do you have no trust in the common folk?"

Vividly ignoring him, the guard turned to her and asked, "Do you have a camera, ma'am?"

Rapunzel laughed nervously. "No. Of course not." She opened her purse and extended it toward him. "No camera. See?"

The guard hummed skeptically but, to Rapunzel's relief, started to leave. "Have a good day. I'll be watching."

"Could those guys get any ruder?" the man scoffed as soon as the guard was out of earshot.

Her hands shaking, she closed her purse. It would have been _awful_ if she'd been caught. Her mother would've been furious.

It seemed the man had noticed her trembling and the tight grip she had on her purse. 

"Hey, you okay there, Blondie? I know those guys can be a little—"

"Me? I'm fine!" Rapunzel cut him off. She trotted over to the vase and retrieved her camera. "Sorry, I, uh... I need to go."

"Late?"

"My mother should be outside right about now to pick me up." She stuffed the camera in her purse. She held out a hand. "It was nice meeting you, Mr..."

The man stared at her hand before slowly moving to shake it. "Flynn Rider."

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Rider. I'll be on my way now."

The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, and Rapunzel would be lying if she said it wasn't dazzling. "See ya, Blondie."

Rapunzel rushed out of the museum, her heels clicking loudly against the tiled floor. _She'd almost been caught._ The thought alone terrified her.

Once outside and on the sidewalk, she breathed deeply. Her mother wasn't here, but her pictures were safe. 

But she was fine.

She was _fine._

"Oh, Rapunzel!"

"Mother—" Rapunzel could barely get a word in before the woman all but flew out of the taxi and engulfed her in a tight hug.

"Darling! I missed you so much. You took the pictures, correct?" her mother prodded, gripping her shoulders.

"Yes, Mother," Rapunzel bit out.

Her eyes lit up. "Marvelous! Let's get going then!"

Rapunzel moved to follow her mother, but she stopped in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if the man she met earlier was still inside.

"Rapunzel?"

"O-Oh! Coming!" she exclaimed, joining her mother in the taxi.

Perhaps she would see him another time. That way she'd be able to thank him for helping her avoid getting caught.

Perhaps.


	2. Two of a Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! I appreciate them so much! 🥰 
> 
> Also, yes! Last chapter's character cameo was the Duke of Weselton from Frozen!
> 
> Now here's chapter 2! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Rapunzel stood in front of a blank canvas, her wrist arched as she tried to find the perfect spot to start painting.

Thankfully, she had a few days to finish this painting, so she didn't have to worry about being trapped in this stuffy room all day, but she figured she should get a head-start on it if she wanted more time to herself. 

She stared at the canvas for a little while longer until she decided that the perfect place to start was in the middle.

Her mother wasn't home and wouldn't be back until much later, so she let her hair hang free today, brown roots visible and all. Even if she had to constantly push strands out of her face, it was better than having it tied back.

It had been a couple of weeks since she'd let it hang loose. Even in her sleep, she kept it tied up because if her mother were to see her roots when she did her nightly checkup on Rapunzel, she'd be dragged out of bed at 3am.

She shuddered as she placed her brush back on the easel after dousing it in water. She'd think about better things than her hair. Like that man she met in the museum.

He'd been strange but oddly charming, dressed professionally yet extremely relaxed and laid-back. She could tell it in the way he held himself, the way the first few buttons of his shirt had been undone, and the way he had sent that guard away with a few simple words.

While he - _Mr. Rider_ \- had told her he was just looking around, she felt that wasn't entirely true, but what did she know? She barely knew him and rarely left the house as it was, so it was weird interacting with anyone who wasn't her mother.

"Maybe he was a businessman," she muttered to herself, pursing her lips. "His suit didn't look that expensive, though..."

Maybe he was apart of the mafia? She'd read about them in books, and her mother said they were all bad men, but Mr. Rider didn't seem like a bad man. Not at all.

She pouted as she examined her base colors so far, her eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe he's a chef or a waiter? No. He didn't smell like food. A writer?"

She stepped back and cocked her head to the side, observing the canvas from a different angle.

"But he couldn't be a writer. He didn't give off that vibe."

She bit her lip. "Hmm. Or maybe he could be a—"

" _Rapunzel_!"

"Mother?!" Rapunzel whisper-shouted.

She wasn't supposed to be home.

"Rapunzel?" her mother called. "Where are you?" 

Rapunzel glided over to the mirror at the dresser, snatching a ponytail holder off of it.

"Rapunzel, are you up there?" Heels started to clack up the stairs.

She quickly gathered her hair into a tight ponytail, and while it wasn't as neat as she'd like, it would have to do. Rapunzel yanked open a drawer and grabbed the first beret she saw, fixing it over her head as to conceal the brown visible in her hair.

As soon as she was done, she ran to the chair in front of her easel, plopping down just as the door opened.

"Rapunzel?" Her mother walked into the room, a concerned look on her face.

"Hi, mother!" Rapunzel said in a pitchy voice that didn't sound as breathless as she felt.

"Are you alright, dear? I heard a lot of moving up here, and you didn't answer when I called your name."

"I was just, uh... I was doing a little light exercise to get some numbness out of my body. Sometimes you get a little stiff, you know?" Rapunzel laughed, hating how nervous it came out. "But what brings you here?"

"Well, one of my engagements ended early and I don't need to leave again for another hour, so I came to check on you. And the paintings, of course," she explained with one of her shrill laughs.

"Oh! Well, the painting is going well! It's fine!" she said as her mother walked over to observe the painting. Or lack thereof. 

"Are you sure you're alright, my flower?" her mother asked, putting a hand on Rapunzel's forehead. "You're acting very—"

The young woman gently batted her mother's hand away. "I'm just a little tired from moving around. That's all." 

Her mother sighed. "Then do less of that. Your energy needs to be saved for painting."

"Of course, Mother! I'll just—"

"Hold on a minute."

Her mother tugged on a strand of her hair, and Rapunzel's stomach sank. Her mother twiddled with the piece in her fingers before asking, "My flower, what is this?"

Her voice had turned cold and chilling. Rapunzel cleared her throat. "N-Nothing, Mother! It's just—"

Her mother knocked the beret off of her head, revealing her roots.

"Rapunzel, how long has your hair been like this?" her mother asked through gritted teeth.

"Mother, it hasn't been that long! I—"

"Look how much they've grown! This is inexcusable!" 

"Mother, I've been working on the paintings—"

"We're dyeing them back right now!" Her mother grabbed her roughly by the wrist, yanking Rapunzel out of her chair and dragging her small figure out of the room.

"Mother, wait!" Rapunzel cried, trying to squirm out of her mother's grip, but it was no use.

Her mother had dragged her to the nearest bathroom upstairs, their biggest and most beautiful bathroom, and pushed her onto the stool in front of the sink.

"Rapunzel, we've talked about this. And here I thought you were finally old enough to tell me when you needed a new dye job, but instead, you hide it from me!" Her mother shook her head as she rummaged the bathroom closet for a box of golden blonde dye.

"But—"

"No worries, though! It'll be fixed back to your original color in no time!" she chirped.

"My hair isn't blonde, though..."

"What was that, my flower? You know I hate the mumbling."

"... _Nothing_ , Mother."

...

"You're amusing, Mr. Rider, but no."

"Helga—"

" _Miss._ "

"Oh, you're specific."

"Listen here, Rider," Helga said as she grabbed the robe hung over the chair and wrapped it around her naked body. She tied it loosely before grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. "I hired you to get my valuable shit back from my bastard ex-husband. Don't ask for more than I offered."

Flynn chuckled as he rolled onto his stomach and propped his elbows up on the bed. "You could easily go over there and take it yourself rather than waste money hiring me to do it."

"Yeah, but I don't wanna have to pull a gun out on him. I've already been arrested twice because that bastard called the cops on me for trying to kill 'em," Helga said, exhaling a puff of smoke.

He whistled. "That's one hell of a reputation you have there."

Helga glared. "Five hundred more. That's my final offer. Take it or leave it, Rider."

"You didn't have to say it twice, Miss Helga."

A few hours later, Flynn left the beautiful Helga Katrina Sinclair to her own doings in her beautiful home.

While he had freshened up at Helga's house, he'd have to make a stop at home to exchange his suit for one that was less... wrinkled.

His assignment from Helga was tonight, so he'd have a couple of hours to himself before he went to go entertain himself by breaking into her ex-husband's house for some damn high-priced jewelry she could just buy again.

He could pickpocket like he used to when he was younger, but where was the fun in that if he'd just discreetly return every wallet he nabbed?

He could get a drink, maybe? Was it too early for that? He usually had no shame drinking at ten in the morning.

A few shots wouldn't hurt.

Especially considering what he did for a living.

"Leave! Him! Alone!"

Eugene sighed to himself. It was never exactly peaceful these days. There was always one thing or another going on, whether it be good, bad, or ugly...

There was a blonde girl with a ridiculous amount of bags in her hands standing at the corner of the street. She was wearing a long green dress with a flared skirt, matching green heels, and a beige coat kicking at a—what was she kicking at?

When he walked closer to observe, the girl looked up, and he was hit with the very same face he had seen at the museum a few days prior. 

Her eyes widened, and suddenly she stopped kicking, her green eyes shifting to the ground as she twisted her hands behind her back.

Flynn let out a small laugh. "Nice to see you here, Blondie, in the middle of the day kicking at who knows what."

"O-Oh!" She blushed and looked up at his face. "I was just trying to chase some dogs away bothering this cat... My hands were just t-too full, so I did it with...my feet?"

"You shooed them away with your feet?"

"...Yes."

"Blondie—"

"Rapunzel."

"That sounds a little strange."

"It-it doesn't," she insisted, straightening her stance and bringing her hands back in front of her, stumbling a little as the bags swung in every which way.

He chuckled. "Need help with those? I couldn't help but notice you seem to be struggling."

An apologetic smile crossed her face. "That would be nice. Sorry I'm dragging you into helping me - _again_. Thank you by the way. ...For that day in the museum. If it weren't for you I would have gotten caught." 

Flynn batted a hand in the air. "It was nothing. Now tell me; what's a chic damsel like yourself doing out here carrying all this heavy machinery by yourself?"

...

"So you bought groceries and paints? What a strange combination," Flynn mused, perusing the contents of one of the bags he held as they walked to what he assumed was her house.

"I'm a painter," she reminded him, laughing.

"I'm sorry to say it slipped my mind," Flynn admitted. There was no reason he shouldn't.

"It's okay," she assured him. "Not many people know anyway. So...Mr. Rider?"

"Uh-oh, that sounds like a voice that wants to ask questions. I don't do questions, Blondie." Flynn shook his head.

"Come on. Not even one or two?" she pressed.

He was prepared to tell her no again, but her eyes were just so curious and innocent that he couldn't resist indulging her some. 

"Fine," he gave in. "You get one question. And maybe a bonus if I'm feeling up to it."

He could tell by the way her nose scrunched up she disagreed, but she asked him her question anyway. "You wore a suit the first time I met you, and you're wearing one now. What's your job, Mr. Rider?"

"That's a bit confidential, Blondie," Flynn told her in an amused tone. "Time for the bonus question. And give me something good."

"How old are you?"

"Oh, well, there's a unique question," he drawled sardonically. He was disappointed, having expected something more exciting.

Rapunzel arched an eyebrow. "I think it's a normal question."

"Well, if you must know, I'm twenty-seven."

"Really?" Rapunzel's mouth fell open in surprise. "You don't look it."

"Yeah. I'm not sure how to take that, so no more questions for you, young lady. Although... I am starting to wonder about _you_." He gave her a quizzical look. "What's with all of this? The bags, that is."

"O-Oh! My mother won't be home for a couple of days, so I had to do the grocery shopping and buy new paints," she explained. "She, uh... She sometimes forgets to stock up on food."

Flynn frowned. "What does she do?"

"She... Well..." She mumbled before abruptly exclaiming, "Oh, look! We're here!"

Sensing it wasn't a topic she wanted to linger on, Flynn changed the subject. "You must have a big, nice house if you live in a gated community, Blondie."

"Rapunzel," she corrected as she put the code in on the keypad. Immediately, the gates opened. "My house is just right here."

It was the second house on the right once you walked in. It was big and expansive with stairs leading up to a double door entrance. There was a long driveway with no cars and a running fountain nearby. The house was two stories, but it was definitely more impressive than the average two-story home.

"What's a girl like you doing walking to the store with a house this big? No maids?" Flynn asked after they'd climbed the stairs, watching Rapunzel unlock the several locks on the front door, which he made a conscious decision not to ask about.

"We have a housekeeper come twice a week, but other than that, my mother doesn't really like anyone else in the house except us or some of the men she does business with," Rapunzel replied.

"Then I guess this is where we say goodbye?" 

"It doesn't have to be! I mean..." She coughed, a light pink dusting her cheeks. "It doesn't have to be."

"Oh, really?"

"Hold on." She stepped inside the house and sat the groceries down on the floor, doing the same to the ones in his hands. Then, she closed the door behind her. For a moment, Flynn thought she'd deserted him, but then she opened the door a minute or so later. She avoided his gaze as she handed him a small piece of paper. "This is my phone number, but please don't call me. I'll call you - only if that's okay with you, though! And I would like to make it clear that being friends is my only motive! I've never had a friend before and—!"

"Blondie."

Rapunzel fiddled with her fingers. "Yes?"

At her shyness, he held back a laugh. She'd only met him once and already wanted to befriend him? _Insane_. But it was for that same reason that he found he didn't mind.

Not before securing the number she'd given him in his jacket, he sifted through his pockets, thankful when he found a crinkled piece of paper in one of them. He took it out - making sure to tear off the corner where the number of a, ah, _friend_ he'd met at a bar was written - and reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pin, scribbling a set of numbers on it.

"Give me a call anytime you'd like," he said with a wink, taking one of her hands and pressing the piece of paper in her palm. 

"Oh—oh," Rapunzel gasped softly. A smile stretched across her face. "I-I will!"

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you." Eugene whistled, starting down the stairs as he called behind him, "Be safe, Blondie."

She waved at him, still smiling broadly. "Have a good evening, Mr. Rider!" 

She sounded happy.

At least there was one person he knew how to not piss off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Do you all know whose today's character cameo is? Guess!
> 
> Please leave comments! They are much appreciated! ❤
> 
> Until next time!


	3. Late Night Break In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am so sorry for the late update! I haven't updated since August and I had not meant to take so long to update although this chapter was written months ago...
> 
> But I thank you all for all the comments and kudos! I appreciate them so much, but I'll let you all read now!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

"Rider, are you sure this guy isn't home?" 

"The lovely Miss Helga said he's always gone at this time of night screwing some lady, so we're good. After all, if he is, we can always tie him up and gag him." 

"Just go in, Rider," Sideburns said as they climbed through the tall window, having removed the glass pane moments earlier. 

"The funny thing is," Flynn said as he slipped in easily, "she says she always has a gun on her with this guy, so how dangerous is he?" 

"You talk too much," Sideburns growled. 

"You've told me that for years, yet nothing has changed since I was nineteen," Flynn scoffed as he landed softly on the floor in the hall. 

Once they were all inside, they slinked down the dark hall, a small flashlight in Flynn's hand. 

"Do you know where she keeps these jewels of hers, Rider?" Sideburns asked. 

"She said the jewels are in the master bedroom in a vault," Flynn said as he turned a corner. "The master bedroom should be right about - Ah, shit." 

He gritted his teeth as they approached the master bedroom, two large black dogs sleeping on top of each other in front of it. 

"What is it, Rider?" Patchy grumbled. 

"I guess my dearest Helga failed to mention that her ex-husband owned two giant rottweilers." 

"Rider, I'll—" 

"Choke me to death," Flynn interjected with an eye roll. "Yes, you've threatened me with that countless times before, but the funny thing is, I'm still breathing." 

"Cut it out, you two," Sideburns said. "How are we gonna make it past the stupid sleeping mutts?" 

"I'm sure there's something like steak around here. We're in a rich person's house - they always have steak. Excuse me while I make a quick trip to the kitchen." Flynn dashed over to the balcony, the Stabbingtons trailing after him like he was some type of violent criminal, and hopped over the railing, landing lightly on the tip of his feet the next floor down. 

His flashlight in hand, he quickly located the kitchen. When he entered it, his flashlight flickered on the sheening grey marble floors and the matching countertops. 

"I imagine it would be delightful to touch that without leaving any fingerprints," Flynn hummed. 

Shiny things. They were definitely a weakness of his. 

He took out a handkerchief, wrapping it around his hand before opening the entirely-too-large refrigerator. 

"Let's see. Steak, steak. Oh, wow. Wow. Now that's extremely original." Flynn shook his head incredulously at the two clear bags he discovered on the very top shelf, in it gleaming jewels of various colors. Why the hell did rich people think refrigerators made a good hiding place? 

"Might as well grab these while I'm here." He clucked his tongue before grabbing the bags full of jewels he was sure were worth more than his soul. 

He closed the refrigerator, ducked out of the kitchen, and strode to the balcony. 

" _Boys_ ," he sang. 

"Quiet, Rider!" Sideburns snarled. "Those damn mutts have sensitive hearing." 

"Yeah, yeah." He waved them off. "Here. Catch!" 

"Rider, wait—" He threw them up and over the railing, and the brothers scrambled to catch either bag. Patchy glared at him, whereas Sideburns growled lowly. 

"Rider... Your days are seriously numbered." 

Flynn rolled his eyes, opting to take the stairs back up to the floor, though once there, he kept a fair distance away from Sideburns. He was in no mood to be killed. 

"Let's just get out of here," Patchy grumbled. 

"Will do," Flynn agreed, wanting to get out then get _away_ from the Stabbingtons. 

Just as they retreated to the window they'd come in through, the very door that the mutts had blocked entry to, opened. 

They froze as a loud yawn resounded from down the hall. Flynn cursed mentally. 

"Rider, I thought you said he wasn't here at this time of night!" Sideburns hissed. 

"Don't blame me!" he shot back. "That's what Helga said. _Helga_. If you have a problem, take it up with her." 

"I'll kill you, Ri—" 

"Who's there?!" There was a man's voice, followed by the click of a gun. 

"And that would be our que to get the hell out of here," Flynn muttered, and then he was sprinting down the corner, the Stabbingtons hot on his tracks. 

He was the first to jump out the window, the brothers toppling down after him. 

"Rider!" Patchy bellowed as they ran for dear life. "This is all your fault!" 

"No—" Flynn flinched as the front door of the mansion burst open, the owner of the home, presumably Helga's ex, shouting expletives behind them. 

Then there was the sound of blaring sirens, and it wasn't long before Flynn could see flashes of red and blue light. _Fuck_. He hadn't planned on spending his night running away from the cops. 

"Keep running!" he yelled. 

"Never said I was gonna stop!" Patchy roused back. 

"Split up! They'll have a harder time finding us and catching up!" Sideburns, ever the reasonable one, barked. 

So they did. 

Flynn knew his way around the city, even the nicest parts of it, but there was one place he knew to go, one place he knew he was welcome. Well, _hoped_ he was welcome. 

He ran until he was face to face with the gates from that morning and jumped over them, thanking his lucky stars that there wasn't some type of invisible electric barrier. 

_The second house on the right_ , he thought, and soon enough he was racing down the driveway of the house he'd visited previously that morning. There were no windows open, but he could break in through the back door. Breaking in things was his specialty. 

After fiddling with the lock for a few seconds, he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him, pressing his palms against the door with a huff. 

Once he got his breathing under control, he let out a sigh of relief. "Alone at—" 

*BANG* 

Flynn's knees buckled underneath him as something metal came down on his head. 

"Ugh..." he groaned, black spots clouding his vision. 

"Oh my god!" a high-pitched voice shrieked. "Mr. Rider?!" 

Flashes of blonde were the last thing he saw before passing out.

...

Rapunzel sat down on the couch next to Flynn as she pat the back of his head with a damp cloth, an apologetic look on her face. "I am _so_ sorry, Mr. Rider." 

"No, Blondie. It's alrig— _argh_!" he hissed in pain at the sting of the cloth on his scalp. 

Rapunzel flinched, but she didn't remove the cloth. "I really am sorry. You just kinda broke into my house, and I'm a little jumpy when I'm home by myself..." 

Flynn nodded stiffly, understanding where she was coming from, but couldn't she have at least waited to see who it was before going in for the kill? 

They were in the living room - the very _nice_ living room, if Flynn did say so himself. He'd been in nicer houses, sure, but there were a couple of vases lying around he wouldn't mind taking for himself. 

After Flynn had woken up to a pounding headache on a couch in an unfamiliar room, Rapunzel had appeared and begun apologizing profusely. In between his head injury and her rambling, he'd had trouble comprehending what she was trying to say, but he'd eventually gathered that fearful that he might be a home invader - which, technically speaking, he was - she'd struck him with a frying pan. After realizing who he was, she'd dragged him to her living room couch, where she'd nervously prayed he was alive until he finally, thankfully, regained consciousness. 

There were two things that stood out to Flynn in her explanation; one, that a girl so petite had been able to haul him all the way into her living room and onto her couch, and two, that her weapon of choice had been a frying pan. It was definitely creative, but what the _hell_?

He glared at the offending item, which was sat on the coffee table in front of them. Seriously, what the hell? 

Apparently, he'd spoken out loud, because Rapunzel blushed and said, "Uh, yeah. About that... I've been using frying pans as a weapon of sorts since I was around seventeen. That's the first time Mother left me home alone. I will say, though... I think it's a little rude to break into someone's house." 

"Are you saying I had that coming, Blondie?" Flynn tried to smirk, but even that somehow hurt. 

"I mean, if that's what _you're_ saying." Rapunzel laughed as she started to carefully wrap his head with gauze after finishing cleaning up the remaining blood on his head. "But...Why did you break into my house? Wait. Where you trying to steal something?!" 

"What? No!" Flynn exclaimed. "It wouldn't have been worth the concussion I'm not sure you didn't give me." 

Her shoulders slumped in relief. "Oh. Then what made you come here?" 

Though offended that she didn't at all seem bothered by the possibility that she might have left him with permanent head trauma, he replied in a grumble, "Let's just say I had a run-in with the ex-husband of one of my lovely clients." 

"Clients..." Rapunzel trailed off, pursing her lips. "And what do you do for these clients? Rob people's homes?" 

"Too many questions, Blondie." 

"Rapunzel." 

"Charmed, I'm sure." 

"You know, I personally think I have the right to ask as many questions as I want since you broke into my house," Rapunzel said matter-of-factly. She finished wrapping the gauze and dropped her hands in her lap. "But I guess I won't ask anything else. You should probably rest now. I think I hit you a tad too hard." 

Flynn cocked an eyebrow. "A tad?" 

Rapunzel's smile was sly as she pinched her fingers together closely. "Okay. Maybe a bit more than a tad." 

"You are aware that 'bit' and 'tad' are synonymous, right?" 

She laughed. "You're a funny man, Mr. Rider." 

"Why, thank you. I don't get that from many people. They're all usually pissed at me," he joked. 

Rapunzel stood up, her cloth and rolled gauze in hand. "Well, I'll go put all of this away and find you some medicine. Then I'll go get you a blanket and a pillow!" 

"No way, Blondie." Flynn shook his head, regretting doing so when pain pulsed in his temples. "I'm not staying. I have to leave." 

"But what about your head?" Rapunzel asked in concern. 

Flynn forced himself to stand. "I've been hit harder, trust me. A few pain killers will—" 

He grunted, stumbling backward onto the couch as he was overcome with a dizzy spell. 

Rapunzel gave him a knowing look, though she sounded oddly hopeful when she spoke next. "You don't have to stay long. Just for a few hours." 

"You just want an excuse to talk to me, don't you?" he accused. 

She shrugged, though she was smiling. "You're the one who broke into my house after all." 

"Are you going to keep bringing that up?" 

"As long as you're here." 

He bit his tongue. He couldn't afford to stay here, not for either his of her sake. He glanced at Rapunzel out of the corner of his eye, taking in her hopeful, wide-eyed expression. He sighed. 

"... _Fine._ Just for a few hours." 

She beamed, clapping. "Yay!" 

"But as soon as my headache is gone, I'm _leaving_. My client isn't exactly a patient woman, and I left the reapings of the job I did tonight with my partners. Who knows where they are now..." 

"Is she scary?" Rapunzel asked. "Your client, I mean." 

"Well, she has a wall of guns," Flynn said, surprised when Rapunzel didn't react outside of an offhand, "Oh." 

"Huh. Considering you just struck me with a frying pan, I'd have thought you'd be a little more… knee-jerky." 

"Oh, well, my mother owns a gun. She keeps it here when she leaves and tells me to use it in emergencies, but I like my frying pan better," Rapunzel explained. 

Flynn gave her a flat look. "You don't say." 

"Sorry," she apologized once again, rubbing her neck sheepishly. 

"It's okay. But enough about me. What about you?" 

"What about… me?" Rapunzel asked slowly, her eyebrows drawing together. 

"You said you paint," Flynn said. "Are you doing anything with it? Say, professionally?" 

"Um..." Rapunzel chuckled nervously, fiddling with her hands. "About that... It's kind of complicated." 

"The painting part or the job part?" 

"Both?" 

While her unsure tone raised suspicion in him, the throbbing in his head was bothering him more than he was willing to admit. "About that medicine, Blondie?" 

"Oh, right! I'll be right back!" she chirped before running off. 

Soon, she returned with a blanket and pillow under her arm, carrying two pills, a glass of water, and a small roll of bread on a tray. 

"I thought you might like something to chew on," Rapunzel said, setting the tray down on the coffee table on the left arm side of the couch. "You don't have to eat it, but it's just in case you get hungry." 

She placed the pillow on the couch and patted it. "There. I guess I should head upstairs and go to bed now. My room is the first door to the right. Sorry that I can't put you in a guest bedroom. They're not exactly ready." 

"I'm just crashing for a few hours, Blondie, so no worries," Flynn said, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down with the glass of water. 

Rapunzel nodded. "Alright. If you need anything, call me." 

She grabbed the frying pan off of the coffee table as she exited the room, and Flynn grunted. 

"Planning to hit anymore people with that thing?" 

"You're still a stranger," she retorted playfully. 

"Fair," Flynn admitted with a laugh. "Goodnight, Blondie." 

She flicked off the lights. "Goodnight, Mr. Rider."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you all enjoyed that and I plan to also upload chapter 4 today or tomorrow to makeup for the long wait!
> 
> Leaving comments is appreciated much!

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing else to say here other than I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated! Also, many chapters are going to have appearances and cameos of characters from other Disney movies, so if you recognize or spot them, tell me!
> 
> Until next time!


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